


Sighing Deeply

by Silverkitsunepup



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, Hallucinations, I mean, John is sad, One Shot, Oneshot, Post-Reichenbach, Short, Slash if you wear your goggles, Unhappy Ending, WARNING: VERY SAD, it's so sad, urgh, very sad, wow i'm so sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-31
Updated: 2015-01-31
Packaged: 2018-03-09 21:36:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3265157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silverkitsunepup/pseuds/Silverkitsunepup
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'John sighs deeply as he shifts open the door to 221B Baker Street only to find Sherlock in his pyjamas, splayed out on the old sofa upside-down, again.'</p>
<p>-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------</p>
<p>A story about John after Sherlock's fall and what it's like to have Sherlock there again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sighing Deeply

John sighs deeply as he shifts open the door to 221B Baker Street only to find Sherlock in his pyjamas, splayed out on the old sofa upside-down, again. He shakes his head with fond exasperation at the somewhat odd genius. The door get’s shut with a spare foot as the other gets used to hold his weight whilst he balances the shopping and the package he picked up from the mail pile downstairs in a frankly impressive bout of acrobatics, especially for one of his, ahem, stature.  
He was placing things in their correct places in the kitchen, or as correct as they could be with the various body parts and weird green ooze that he would rather not know the name of scattered all around the room, when he was startled by a very loud thump coming from the living room. John immediately raced out of the kitchen, only to find Sherlock, now splayed out on the floor rather than the sofa, in an almost astoundingly uncomfortable looking position whilst still maintaining the same look of absolute concentration he had before. Okay, so maybe he was a little bit more than somewhat odd.

“Sherlock get off the floor. You’re going to give yourself a bad neck and I don’t want to deal with your complaining later.”

“Bored.”

Oh here we go again.

“What do expect me to do about it?” He replied, rubbing the bridge of his nose to try and alleviate the headache beginning to form.

“I need a case John! I’m bored!”

“I can’t exactly go around killing people to create cases for you,”

Sherlock’s face brightened momentarily.

“…And you would know who did it anyway.” He said warningly, his eyebrow tilted up in disapproval.

“Bit not good?”

John grinned at the familiar question and amusement filled him like a light, he had missed this when Sherlock had gone away.

“Bit yeah.”

“Oh but John I’m Bored.”

And yes, the capital was completely necessary.

John smirked slightly.

“Well I was going to go to the Yard later to talk to Greg. I suppose, theoretically, I could take someone with me and they could, theoretically of course, visit the morgue to experiment, without my knowledge. “

The smirk grew into a fully-fledged grin as Sherlock’s whole body suddenly snapped upwards and practically trembled in excitement caused by a hugely magnificent brain being forced to deal with ordinary mundane ordinary life things. Though he was sure Sherlock would have put it more eloquently. That suspicious warmth was back in his heart again, after so many years of being painfully cold and empty in the man’s absence. God he never wanted to stop talking to Sherlock, just seeing him there was such an amazing comfort.

“I have to go and take a shower, then we can leave.”

“But John-“

“Ah! If you could cope with being bored the whole time I was gone, then you can cope a little longer… Please don’t shoot anymore holes in the walls.”

Sherlock huffed like the petulant child he really was, which John took as a reluctant agreement and headed upstairs.

He rushed to get through his shower and practically threw on whatever his hands touched first in an absolutely ecstatic storm of need, because Sherlock was there and Christ, he had forgotten how amazing he was, having him back after so many years was just too astonishing to process. He flew down the stairs, taking three at a time like a child on Christmas morning.

“Sherlock come on, let’s go!”

He just about managed to skid to a stop before he hit the wall this time, only to be faced with silence. 

The empty room stared at him. It’s decidedly Sherlock-free environment taunted him with the reminder that no, everything was not back to how it was, in fact nothing had changed at all. Not one, single, thing since the day his best friend had jumped off that stupid, bloody building. 

The smile slowly slipped from his face and settled into his aching heart, turning into a wide vacuum that sucked away everything he was feeling, all the happiness from before, and all the pain from now. John sighed a deep breath. At least this was better than that first year. Now he couldn’t feel anything but the ache of the feelings being missing.

He turned, slipping his coat off onto the floor as he went, back to the kitchen, the decidedly body-part-and-green-ooze-free kitchen and made himself some tea. Sinking down into his chair he stared blankly at the empty sofa and chair before him and smiled a broken, hilariously inadequate, imitation of his grin before Then and spoke quietly to himself.

“Shame, I had hoped this one would last longer.”

He downed his tea and fixed his face into a more John look. He still had to meet with Greg and remind him again, that he didn’t need meds. He sighed deeply and left the flat alone.

**Author's Note:**

> Wow, now i've made myself sad. I need to go and read a load of stuff where they are living happily now. Ugh, i'm so depressing. I hope you guys liked it, as much as you can like something so massively depressing anyway ^^''


End file.
